


every time the sun comes up i'm in trouble

by floweryangst



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 15:38:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18055280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floweryangst/pseuds/floweryangst
Summary: Everything and nothing changes after Montana. Jackson still seeks comfort in April whenever he needs.





	every time the sun comes up i'm in trouble

Everything and nothing changes after Montana. Jackson still seeks comfort in April whenever he needs. She holds him and kisses him and then fucks him, tender and slow, hard and desperate. Sometimes she lays wrapped around him afterward and they talk like they used to. Other times, he pulls away and leaves. It’s unfair, he knows. He wanted space. He wanted the divorce. Yet here she is with open arms and an open heart for him to exploit and take advantage of while asking for nothing in return.

It confuses her. He’s seen the way her face changes sometimes. When there’s just the two of them together, bodies wrapped in each other, the split second she allows the sort of vulnerability that is only for a husband to see, then back to nothing but warm and soft hands.

He pretends he doesn’t see it.

She lives with him and she dates other people, but he’s still allowed to touch her the same. She never talks about the men unless prompted to, and she always explains shortly how it wasn’t a good fit, how she isn’t going to be seeing them again. There’s never more than one date.

It becomes sort of a routine. His favourite kind of routine. Every Saturday April has a new Tinder date, and every evening she comes home either an hour or two earlier than planned, her face weary and her body heavy with disappointment. He sits on the large couch, back turned toward the door and eyes plastered to the big screen in front of him. She sits down, they make small talk, sometimes he can even draw a little laugh out of her, but it’s always tired.

So tired.

One of them yawns, or they both do, or sometimes neither of them needs to say a word before there’s hands and lips everywhere, grabbing each other like it might be the last time.

She always tastes like sweet wine. Her lips stained red from the drink, pliant against his own. Her hair curled the way she knows he likes it. She wore it the same way when he whisked her away from everyone to marry her. Her clothes are a little tighter than he’s used to seeing on her. Sometimes it’s a bright dress with patterns. Sometimes a frilly, flowery top that shows off enough cleavage for him to notice.

This is his favourite version of her. Of his April. It reminds him of that first time. When they were both full of adrenaline and ready to start a new chapter in their lives.

Jackson lets it drag out. He savours the feel of her body pressing and shifting against his own. He memorises the shape and feel of her. Eventually, she’ll get impatient, thighs trapping his own and nails scraping across his skin, and she’ll whisper sweet nothings into his ear until he can’t carry her fast enough to the bedroom. Their old bedroom. The one they used to share as a married couple.

There are times old emotions will brush past him, make him forget their current situation, April leaving him, the fighting, the divorce, and just be with her. He caresses her face and holds her so close he doesn’t know where her body ends and his stops. She will sigh sweetly against him and he’ll hear her talk, saying things he knows she’ll regret when they aren’t wrapped up in each other. Sometimes he talks back. He tells her everything.

_I miss you. I love you. Please, please, please-_

Those are the times he pulls away and leaves afterwards. He sleeps in the guestroom and dreams of red hair and pale, soft skin that never leaves him. He dreams, and he dreams, and he dreams until the sun comes up and the smell of fresh coffee drags him into the kitchen, and the routine starts all over again.

More often, they’ll claw and pull at each other for hours, and sweaty and out of breath, one of them will find the courage to speak quietly into the dark room. They’ll talk about their day, sometimes hopes and dreams, but never about each other. April will hold him, either cradle his head against her chest or wrap her arms around his torso and press her face into his neck. They’ll fall asleep together and wake up separated. She doesn’t make coffee those days, but she doesn’t meet his eyes either.

The routine continues for a few months. Jackson gets used to it. The comfort of it helps him through tough days, knowing he can always confide in April, fall back against her and she’ll catch him. Until the day he suddenly can’t.

This time it’s him coming home and April on the couch, her back tense and the screen in front of her black. Jackson knows the reason for the defeated look she’s wearing. Neither of them says anything as he sits down beside her.

“So, we’re gonna talk about what you said to Maggie, or what?” It comes off as too nonchalant. She looks down at her hands.

“Why? Why would we do that? We never talk about anything that matters.” She’s snappy and annoyed, and he recognises her tone within seconds. April wants to say something, but he isn’t sure she knows how.

“April, come one. What is this?” He pushes likes he always does. He pushes until he gets an answer.

“Montana. We never talked about what happened in Montana.”

His confusion only lasts for a second. “Would you like to? I didn’t realise we needed to.” He’d always thought their routine had given her some sort of comfort the same way she had given him it.

“Jackson, I get that you’re really good at compartmentalising, you know, like I’m your friend, I’m your person, I’m Harriet’s mom, and sometimes we have sex and that’s totally okay with you. I get it. It’s just that you’re a lot better at it than I am.”

Her eyes shine when she looks at him. “Montana actually caused me pain. Yeah, I thought it was good, I thought it was fine, but then I spent weeks wondering what it was… what this was. And if it was-is nothing, then it’s just like… casual sex, which to me is-” Her face twists and he wants to reach out a hand to comfort her, to help her the same way she has helped him for months. He doesn’t move. He can’t help her, and he doesn’t think she’ll allow him to try either after this.

“It causes me pain the way we’re doing this.”

Jackson’s seen the bags underneath her eyes. He’s seen her sad, understanding smiles after he leaves the bedroom. He’s seen how crushed she is after she comes home, and another date didn’t work out. He’s known for a long time, he just hasn’t been willing to see it.

“And I think I probably have to move out.”

Tears are covering her cheeks and Jackson longs to reach out again, brush them away and make it better. April stands up and gives him one of those smiles he hadn’t been willing to let himself see before now, and then she leaves him.

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!! i hope it's not too obvious that this is my first time writing fanfiction?? or publishing probably, anyway, hope u liked it :)) i apologise for any grammatical errors or badly written sentences.


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